


i don't know what i'm supposed to do

by slippingintostories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Let Dean Winchester Talk About His Feelings Challenge, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, the ending is hopeful though!, up to 15x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slippingintostories/pseuds/slippingintostories
Summary: Dean Winchester wanted freedom no matter the cost. Except, not really.
Relationships: Cas does not actually appear here but it is very much about deancas, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 14





	i don't know what i'm supposed to do

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to cope with my disappointment after 15x19 and my fear of 15x20. I have barely edited it because it was very stream-of-consciousness, but I hope you like it! 
> 
> Title is from The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Sam and Dean get back to the bunker, and the first and only thing Dean can do is remember. He walks over to the wooden table and traces his own initials.

“We should put them here,” he says.

Sam glances at him from across the room. “What?”

“Jack. And Cas. They’re… they were family too.” Dean sees Sam understand, and sees the pain brought to the surface. He’s sure Sam can see it on him too. 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “... yeah.”

Moments later they each have a small knife, and Dean hesitates momentarily, but Sam doesn’t, immediately beginning to carve Jack’s name below his initials. Dean exhales, and begins to carve Cas’ name below his own. It takes a while, not least because Dean decides to put Castiel’s whole name there. Honestly, he’s not sure why; he’s essentially only called him Cas for the last ten years, but it feels wrong to shorten it here. It feels wrong not to let him fill the empty space.

So Dean carves “Castiel” into the table. Sam finishes carving “Jack” next to it just as Dean finishes the “s”, and he makes a slight noise of surprise when he sees Dean start in on the “t”, but says nothing. Sam leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with two beers, setting one next to Dean as he painstakingly finishes the “l”. Dean brushes off the carving, traces it idly for a moment, and stands.

They lean against the table for a few minutes, speaking little and drinking. The words they manage to say, about all they’ve done and lost to get here, about where they should go now, don’t feel like enough. When they move away from the table, Dean thinks about freedom, and it doesn’t feel as good as he had thought it would. There’s a hollow feeling in his chest, and a tight, directionless anxiety in the way his stomach clenches. His hands shake. 

He tries to make this twisted freedom feel right, and he fails. 

He didn’t think he would be this lost. 

… 

Sam and Dean hunt, for a while. Free will aside, it seems they don’t quite remember what else to do with themselves. Or, more specifically, Dean doesn’t. He tries not to think about it, but he sees the way Sam’s research seems to have more to do with finding ways to finish incomplete degrees than with finding cases, and how Sam spends more and more time at Eileen’s. He’s glad, really, that when he drove Sam there, after the shock wore off, after it sank it that she would probably be back, that she was there, waiting, worried. Eileen is great, and Sam is finally happy. Finally... free. In a way that Dean still isn't.

So they research, and they hunt (a vampire’s nest here, a ghoul there, a vengeful spirit; no demons, for now, and maybe never again). They visit Jody and the girls, new Bobby and new Charlie (plus Stevie), Garth, and everyone they can think of when they’re driving nearby. Seeing them almost makes it all worth it, but not quite. 

Sam tries to hide his other research and tries to pretend that talking to Eileen isn’t the best part of his day, but Dean notices every time. He pretends not to. Dean drinks more than he should, and when they’re not hunting he doesn’t get out of bed until evening, and sometimes he doesn’t at all, and he pretends not to notice Sam’s imperfectly hidden worry, just like everything else. He knows Sam’s only pretending not to notice too. 

...

When Sam is away, Dean explores the deepest parts of the bunker. Seven years of living there and it still holds so many secrets. He finds lots of weird ingredients, more weapons, more random stuff with purposes he can’t even guess at. He finds books and journals full of spells and lore and he reads them, searching for something he can’t admit he’s looking for. He knows he will not find it. 

He never goes to the dungeon.

… 

It takes four months for Sam to tell him that he wants out. Dean knew it was coming, so when Sam sits him down and tells him that, even though he doesn’t regret his choices, he never wanted to die a hunter, Dean nods and smiles and tells him it’s okay despite the sick deja vu twisting his gut. After everything, he would never begrudge Sam this. He tells Sam that he’s done enough, that he deserves his happy piece of normal-ish, and it's true. Sam asks if he’s okay, if he will be, and Dean doesn’t know. But he pretends. Making sure Sam got his happy ending always was supposed to be enough for him.

When Sam packs his stuff, he reminds Dean to be at Eileen’s the next day for dinner. Dean smiles and reassures him, and when Sam drives away, he waves. Sam glances back at him briefly, then turns away. Dean watches until he can’t see the car anymore, then stands there a while longer.

When he turns away and heads inside, that terrible freedom hangs in the air, compounded by the crushing loneliness that had only just been kept away before. He looks around the bunker and he hurts. The place is too empty; the traces of their little broken family wiped clean. Sam’s research on the table, Cas’ jacket on a chair, Jack’s abandoned empty cereal boxes and candy wrappers, it’s all gone. All that’s left are Dean’s shoes by the door, and Dean’s keys on the table, and Dean himself in a chair, holding a beer, tracing the carvings that are the only way an outsider could ever know someone else was there.

There are too many ghosts here.

…

A week later, Dean drops a book on his foot, curses, and freezes. The book lies open on the floor, and he can’t quite believe what he sees on the page. He can’t quite bear to hope. 

Dean reads the page, then the whole chapter. After, he places his head in his hands, breathing shallowly, panicked and overwhelmed, but sure. When his breathing evens out, he begins to plan.

… 

Dean drives. He has no destination, but that’s not new to him. Eventually he stops, pulls over to the side of the road, and gets out of the car. He leans against the hood, tilting his head towards the sky, watching the setting sun and the slight fog. It’s cold, but he barely notices. He begins to speak.

“Hey, Jack. I’m not sure… I’m not totally clear on whether you can hear me or not, but I think that maybe you can. At any rate, I have to tell someone, and I can’t tell Sam… and if I’m not certain you can hear me, there’s no way Cas can.” Dean exhales shakily. “I found the book. I didn’t let myself realize I was looking for it, but I was. And I found it.” Dean pauses, weighing his words on his tongue, deciding what he will finally be able to say.

“Cas believed in you so much, Jack. Way more than I ever knew how to, and I’m sorry for that. I think I always will be. But Cas did, and you were his kid, first and foremost, so I wasn’t really surprised when I found out he made a deal for you.” Dean feels tears burning in the backs of his eyes, and doesn’t try to hold them back.

“You knew the part where Cas made a deal with the Empty to save your life, and I told you that he used it to save mine. I didn’t tell you what he said to me, and even if I think you know now, I’m going to tell you again anyway.

Dean tilts his head back and smiles sadly, tears falling gently but steadily now. “Cas told me he loved me. He said a lot of other stuff too, about me and him and how… how I changed him. He said it all so fast, kid. He said it all, and I didn’t say anything back, because I didn’t have time, and because I didn’t have the words. But he deserved to hear it. He deserves to know that he changed me too, that he gave me hope and that I… that I love him too. I love him, and I have for a long time. Probably since before I even knew.”

“I know you said you were going to be hands-off. But I think you already helped me find that book, at least a bit, so if it’s possible.” He inhales sharply, “If there’s any way I might be able to do this, any way that I might get Cas back… please send me a sign. I don’t know if I can do it if I’m sure it’s going to fail, and I’ll be honest about the fact that I’m pretty low on faith right now.”

Silence falls around him. He waits. Minutes pass in that cold evening silence, where Dean stands still and alone in the universe, or as close to it as he can get. He shifts, uncomfortable, but he stays, still and waiting. 

Until he hears a faint buzzing.

He starts a little as a bee lands on his left hand, despite the fact that it’s quite cold and almost fully dark. It walks idly up his arm, and he stays as still as he possibly can but, even though he can’t suppress a shiver when it’s just past his elbow, it continues undeterred. The bee stops on his shoulder and stays there for a moment. When it flies away, he notices a light dusting of pollen on his shoulder, and he knows. 

“Thank you,” Dean says aloud, to the bee, to no one in particular, to the universe.

Dean gets back in the car. He doesn’t turn back; this time, he goes forward.

**Author's Note:**

> Whatever happens in the last episode tonight, it has been a pleasure to clown for this beautiful, heartbreaking and occasionally ridiculous ship with you all. Truly an experience like no other.


End file.
